Isla de Hell
by Ana-Caribbea-Sparrah
Summary: It's boiling hot outside and, for once, Jack doesn't want his rum! However, it seems that he has a bit of a hard time pronouncing the "W" word. Rated for a little bit of language.


Captain Jack Sparrow drummed his fingers impatiently against the wood of the helm, sighing every so often as he and his crew sailed off into the horizon. It would be a whole year tomorrow since they had seen any action, and quite frankly, it made the poor captain exceedingly restless. It was as though he had an itch to pillage, but how does one scratch an itch if it's unreachable? The plundering rested against his upper back, where he couldn't reach, and it bothered him to no end. The crew had since gotten lazier, with having nothing to do and not needing to fend for their lives. For once, they had hoped that someone would ambush them and offer some play, but that apparently wasn't going to happen.

Hector Barbosa had been booted from the ship about three ports ago, so there was no bickering between him and Jack to offer any entertainment. Tia had already exploded into a sea of white crabs, so she had no use. And to top it off? It was boiling hot. Boiling as in skin peeling, sweat by the ocean load, and foot blistering boiling. Jack had them set for a course to an island for some sort of relief, but with the way that things were going now, he suspected that he must have taken a wrong turn and had accidently sailed through Isla de Hell.

Every man aboard the Pearl was shirtless, despite age, grime, and body odor, everyone stripped down the best that they could; some of them even went so far as to cut as much of their hair off as possible. Jack would not go that extreme, though. No matter how smoldering it was, Captain Jack Sparrow would sleep on a pit of hot coal before he rid himself of his exotic locks.

"Cap'n!" he heard someone cry.

Too hot and tired to budge, Jack forced out a, "What?" but did not budge in the slightest.

"We almost there, Sir? We've another lad who just passed out!"

_'Good, sweet heavens,'_ Jack thought, irritated, _'How in hell am I supposed to keep this blasted ship moving if my whole bloody crew drops like flies? Is this the price of pirating? The cost of my sins? If so, I've learned my lesson; honestly, I have! Just give me a break, oh mighty God of the Clouds… or whoever's on duty up there.'_

"Jack?" the man prodded when he received no answer from his captain.

"Huh? Oh, right; the man. Shove him in the back with the rest, we'll get them up once we make port."

He nodded, "Aye, sir."

"Oh, and Gibbs?"

"Aye?"

Jack took a moment to think over what he was about to ask, playing the words over and over in his mind. He couldn't believe what he was about to say, and he was quite unsure whether or not it was 

him about to ask it or not. After all, he had heard a good amount of voices in his head over the past few hours; he sighed and asked, "Could you get me some-"

"Rum? Aye, Sir, I'll be right on it. Whatever gets me out of this bloody heat!" he laughed.

"No, not rum, Gibbs," Jack clarified, "Get w… wa… wa…"

"A wallet?"

"No. What would I need that for?"

Gibbs shrugged, "Beats me, Cap'n, you're the mastermind behind all of your little inventions."

Jack rolled his eyes, "No, not a wallet. Get me some…err… wa… w… w…"

"Wa…lrus? A walrus, sir?"

"Bloody hell no, Gibbs! Just shut up so I can say it!"

Gibbs nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow as he squinted up at his captain through the intense sunlight, "Whatcha be needin', then?"

Jack sighed exasperatedly and rested his head against his wheel, taking a moment to gather himself before he looked back up and tried again, "Go get… some… err… wat… ahem… wat…"

"Watermelon? I can't say we have that, Jack, and even if we did, it'd be rotten by now."

"Not watermelon!"

"A watchdog?"

"No."

"A… wat?" _'What does he need with a Buddhist temple?'_ Gibbs thought, confused.

"No," Sparrow groaned.

"Some… watanooga?"

Jack blinked a few times to allow the word to digest, "Wait. What? What's a watanooga?"

"Oh, don't be actin' all new, cap'n!" Gibbs laughed heartily, coming to stand beside him. He nudged his captain in the side with his elbow and grinned with a wink, "Ya know. Watanooga; all men need some watanooga, Sir, 'specially after bein' alone at sea for so many lonely nights," he howled, "I be needin' some watanooga meself! So, what say you, cap'n?"

Jack blinked again, finding it hard to understand how he even came about recruiting most of the men on his ship; they were all crazy, and the heat wasn't helping in the slightest. His first mate had just asked if he wanted some… watanooga, despite the fact that it's nearly two hundred degrees. Who even 

thinks like that in a time like this? His manly pleasures were the furthest thing from his mind right now. _Women_ were, surprisingly enough, the furthest thing from his mind!

Jack rolled his eyes, growling, "Blast damn, Gibbs! No! I don't need a watchdog, or watermelon, or a walrus, or… uhh… watanooga!" he roared.

Gibbs scratched his head, "Well what d'ye need?"

"Some water! Just… water!"

"Sea water? We got plenty o' that all around us, why ye be needin' me to get it?"

"Not that water, Gibbs. From the galley! We have barrels in the galley!" When his first mate made no move to head below, Jack continued, "Well? Why are you still here?"

Now, it was Gibbs' turn to blink as he scratched his head again, completely confused, "I've never heard of that before. 'S that a new flavor o' rum?"

Jack tossed his hands in the air and left the helm to go below deck, "Forget it, I'll get it m'self."

Gibbs followed at his heels, "Since when did we actually store water? Cap'n? Cap'n Jack? Capn', are ye ignorin' me? Jack! JACK!"

A/N: Yeah, that was incredibly short, but it's 11:40 at night and I had nothing better to do. So I hope you liked it!  Good night!


End file.
